"Is it Maynard, the banker's son?" she asked.

The second demon nodded.

"Then I must escape by the side entrance. When he gets tired waiting,
Mr. Smithers, give him La Sylphine's compliments, and let him go."

She glided past the demons down a dark and winding staircase, and out
into the noisy, lighted street.

The girl paused an instant under a street-lamp--she was only a
girl--fifteen or sixteen at most, though very tall, with a bright,
fearless look--then drawing her shawl closely round her, she flitted
rapidly away.

The innumerable city clocks tolled heavily--eleven. The night was
pitch-dark; the sheet-lightning blazed across the blackness, and now
and then a big drop fell. Still the girl sped on until she reached her
destination.

It was the poorest and vilest quarter of the great city--among reeking
smells, and horrible sounds, and disgusting sights. The house she
entered was tottering to decay--a dreadful den by day and by night,
thronged with the very scum of the London streets. Up and up a long
stair-way she flew, paused at a door on the third landing, opened it,
and went in.

It was a miserable room--all one could have expected from the street
and the house. There was a black grate, one or two broken chairs, a